The warm, sweet scent of freshly baked pastries filled the entire shop, wrapping the air in a cozy, inviting atmosphere.
Wooden shelves were lined with a delightful assortment of both dry and soft pastries—from cheerful little gingerbread men to colorful macarons arranged like precious gems.
Behind the polished wooden counter, a woman with beautiful blue hair was carefully wrapping a few shortbread cookies in brown paper bags.
Her face bore the gentle traces of time—fine lines around her eyes and lips, but her beauty remained unmistakable. She radiated a warm, motherly charm.
Beside her, a young girl was busy mixing cookie dough in a large bowl.
Her hair was the same vivid blue, identical to the woman beside her. But unlike her mother, her bright gray eyes sparkled with youthful curiosity.
Her movements were quick and practiced, clearly used to this kind of work. She seemed to be helping her mother in the bustling bakery.
From time to time, she smiled at her or greeted the passing customers with a polite nod.
After a while, accompanied by the soft hum of music from an old gramophone, the bell above the door chimed—signaling a new customer.
Both the woman and the girl looked up simultaneously, ready with warm smiles to greet whoever had entered.
Standing at the entrance was a tall man with white hair, his presence calm but undeniably cold.
His crimson eyes glowed faintly, like simmering embers, and a faint smile played on his otherwise expressionless face.
It wasn't exactly a warm smile—more calculated, maybe even slightly mysterious—but it was a smile nonetheless.
It was Benedict.
Just as the novel described, Benedict had finally found the bakery owned by the first Heroine. Rafaela's mother's bakery.
He stepped closer toward the shelves, scanning the selection of pastries. His eyes landed on a pink heart-decorated cookie, and for some reason, it annoyed him a little.
It reminded him of something or someone— from his previous life.
Then a whisper reached his ears.
"Mother, what's a noble doing in a place like this?" Rafaela whispered while still working the dough.
"Does it matter, sweetheart? Noble or not, we treat all our customers kindly," her mother replied in a low voice.
Benedict's eyelids fluttered shut, his lips pressed into a thin line.
He had heard every word.
So it's a crime now for a noble to want some cookies?
He opened his eyes and turned his gaze toward Rafaela's mother.
Offering a polite smile, he asked,
"What's your bestseller here?"
The older woman flinched slightly—caught off guard mid-whisper, but quickly recovered.
"Ah, our bestseller this month is the gingerbread men, sir," she said, pointing to a tray of them displayed on the warm wooden shelves.
Benedict rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he examined them.
The gingerbread men were golden brown, each wearing a broad, sugary smile and decorated with two tiny candy buttons on their stomachs. Cheerful, classic, and festive.
He let out a thoughtful hum, then glanced at Rafaela, who was still busy working the dough.
"So, sir… are you interested in trying our gingerbread men?"
Benedict turned his gaze toward Rafaela and smiled.
"Hmm… how about the cookie she's making right now instead?" he asked, pointing at Rafaela.
Rafaela looked up immediately, her expression puzzled.
"But… the cookie isn't finished yet," Rafaela said, her hands still buried in the mixing bowl.
"That's fine. I don't mind waiting," Benedict replied with a calm, almost playful smile
----
The warm, sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies hit Benedict like a wave, wrapping around him the moment he stepped inside the cozy little bakery.
He sat quietly at one of the small wooden tables, resting his chin on his palms, eyes fixed on the window outside.
People strolled past along the sandy streets, and horse-drawn carriages clattered by every so often, their steady rhythm blending into the peaceful melody of the town's daily life.
Yet, there was one detail that unsettled him slightly.
Almost every adult who walked past had a small dagger tucked beneath their cloaks. Not visible at a glance, but clearly there if one looked close enough.
Is this what a world full of adventurers looks like?
The thought sparked both curiosity and a subtle wave of unease.
The contrast between the town's tranquil surface and the quiet tension underneath was striking.
Just then, he heard the soft clang of an oven door opening, followed by a gentle ding.
He glanced toward the source of the sound and saw Rafaela skillfully pulling out a tray of freshly baked cookies.
Her face lit up, glowing in the warm oven light. The reflection danced on her smooth features.
Benedict blinked, surprised by just how beautiful she was.
Even more beautiful than he had imagined when reading the novel back in his original world.
Her blue hair and soft gray eyes were mesmerizing, radiating a charm that was pure, innocent, almost ethereal.
And it felt… strange.
Strange that he had to make this innocent girl fall in love with him.
Strange that he'd have to make her submit—to him.
He was an adult, after all. Or at least he had been. But now, in this new world, inside Benedict's body… he was the same age as her.
Even so, it didn't erase the odd feeling twisting in his chest.
Soon, Rafaela shut the oven door and, after a short wait, began walking toward him with a smile on her face.
In her hands, a small basket of cookies wrapped neatly in warm linen cloth.
Steam rose from the basket, and the scent struck Benedict again—rich and tempting, overpowering everything else in the shop.
He smiled politely in return as she approached.
Rafaela stopped beside his table and gently set the basket down.
"Here you go, sir," she said, bowing slightly. "Please enjoy. I hope you like my baking."
Benedict gave her a small nod and reached for the basket.
With long, deliberate fingers, he peeled back the soft linen cloth.
Inside were medium-sized cookies, perfectly golden brown and neatly arranged.
Each cookie had slightly cracked edges—a sign of crispness and dark chocolate chunks glistening across the top, partially melted under the dim shop light.
Some of them were adorned with thin lines of white icing, forming simple patterns that added a touch of elegance.
Even at first glance, it was obvious—these cookies were made with care and skill.
He picked one up carefully, still warm to the touch.
System, if I eat this cookie and compliment her baking, will it bring me closer to Rafaela?
[Correct, Master! Rafaela has never received genuine praise for her cookies before.]
Never?
For some reason, that only made him more nervous.
What if they tasted awful?
Benedict closed his eyes and, without overthinking it, bit into the cookie.
CRUNCH!
A satisfying snap as his teeth broke through the crisp outer layer—followed by a burst of rich sweetness.
His crimson eyes widened.
His mind blanked, all thoughts dissolving into the sheer wave of flavor flooding his mouth.
He chewed slowly, savoring every note. This wasn't just a cookie.
It was a masterpiece.
After swallowing the first bite, Benedict straightened in his seat, eyes sparkling, and shouted without thinking,
"This… is DELICIOUS!"
His voice echoed through the quiet shop, startling Rafaela, who was still standing beside his table. She jumped slightly, eyes wide with surprise.
Her expression lit up. She leaned forward, her gray eyes shimmering with anticipation.
"Really?" she asked, voice trembling with excitement. "You really think it's good?"
Benedict nodded earnestly, still dazed by the flavor lingering on his tongue.
"Yes," he said without hesitation. "It's honestly amazing."
A radiant smile bloomed across Rafaela's face, revealing her perfectly aligned white teeth.
There was joy and relief in her expression—raw, unfiltered emotion.
For the first time, someone had truly loved her cookies.
She'd always worried they weren't good enough… and Benedict's sincere praise hit her like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Without warning, she pulled out a chair and sat across from him, eyes full of curiosity and excitement.
Her mother, who had been counting coins near the register, chuckled softly.
Seeing her daughter this happy always warmed her heart.
Though she did wonder… what did that man find so special about her daughter's cookies?
"So… what exactly did you like about it?" Rafaela asked, leaning in slightly, unable to contain her curiosity. "What made it taste so good to you?"
Benedict paused, thinking carefully.
He hadn't expected a cookie this good. Not from someone who'd supposedly never received praise for them.
Do people in this world just not have taste?
He cleared his throat with a light cough, both to prepare his voice and shake off the slight embarrassment from earlier.
"The butter flavor is really rich," he began. "It's not artificial—it tastes soft and smooth on the tongue. And the chocolate..."
He trailed off briefly, recalling the bittersweet balance.
"The chocolate has a depth to it—not too sweet, but with a subtle bitterness that makes the whole thing more complex and satisfying. The texture's incredible too. Crispy on the outside—just enough resistance when you bite in—but then it melts softly on the inside. There's also this faint hint of vanilla that pulls everything together. It lingers after you swallow, leaving this warm, comforting finish."
Rafaela's mouth dropped open slightly.
She hadn't expected such a detailed breakdown… of a cookie.